


Aftermath

by prettyaveragewhiteshark



Category: The Lost Legacy, Uncharted (Video Games), Uncharted: the Lost Legacy
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, so much fukin angst you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyaveragewhiteshark/pseuds/prettyaveragewhiteshark
Summary: One Shot - Nadine patches Chloe up and experiences a whole bunch of emotions.Set after the end of TLL





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> *bursts in carrying Chloe Frazer under one arm and Nadine Ross under the other* HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS LOOK AT THESE GAYS

Meenu told them where to find a cheap hotel in the city. It was significantly pricier than the 300 rupee bed at chez Meenu, but also had adequate sleeping space for three grown adults. Nadine insisted upon the upgrade, despite the charm of the little girl’s offer. Sam got his own room to afford the women some privacy, but after they arrived he lingered outside their door, suggesting yet again that perhaps a friendly local buyer would be a better home for the Tusk than the ministry. Nadine was sore, tired, and well past the end of her rope, and she leveled a glare at Sam that sent him hurrying as casually as possible toward his own room with a quick two finger salute and an “Alright, well, goodnight then.”

Nadine shut their door and turned to face the room. Their quarters consisted of two thin mats lying side-by-side on the floor, each covered with a faded blanket. In the corner was a door that Nadine assumed led to a private toilet, and a sink protruding from the wall with a dingy aluminum mirror tacked into the plaster above it.

Chloe put her hands on her hips, letting out a slow breath. “Okay. Nice digs.”

“Suppose that’s what we get for seeking out the lowest bidder?” Nadine quipped mildly, crossing to the sink and dropping her backpack to the floor. She crouched and zipped it open.

“Right you are,” Chloe said, collapsing onto one of the mats with a groan. “I’m just glad to not have a warlord hunting us down. Or handcuffing us to a metal pole and leaving us to drown. Or punching our lights out on a bomb train.”

“I’ll second that,” Nadine agreed. She rummaged around in her pack, pulling out a medical kit and a bottled water. A deep sigh from across the room made her look up.

Chloe was lying flat on her back, her body completely limp, her eyes blissfully closed, her body already falling into a state of hyper-relaxation that Nadine recognized as the moments before full-on REM cycle sleep. Nadine sat back on her heels, watching her, the rise and fall of her chest, the sheer aliveness of her. It was some kind of miracle that they had survived the last forty-eight hours.

There was a surge of something in her chest, a remembered emotion she’d felt entirely too many times since arriving in India. It was not an unfamiliar feeling, of course - everyone in her line of work had experienced it at some point or another - but she’d never felt this brand of it. It was the lightning jolt that had coursed through her veins when she’d watched Chloe tumble from impossible heights, when she’d sat by her unconscious body for thirty minutes just praying she’d wake up, when the axe of Shiva had sliced through the air towards her throat and Nadine was sure she was about to watch Chloe’s decapitated body slump to the floor.

Fear, pure and unfiltered, but for the first time it was not fear for her own life, but for Chloe’s. Nadine felt an uncomfortable thrill at the prospect of what this meant, but she didn’t have the energy to process it. She shoved away the host of memories that threatened to flood to the forefront of her exhausted mind and stood up.  

She crossed the room to stand over Chloe. “Not so fast,” she said.

Chloe’s body jolted slightly. She cracked one groggy eye open. “Sorry?”

Nadine sat cross legged beside her mat, hefting the kit in her hand and nodding at Chloe’s bandaged arm. “That gash needs stitches. The longer you leave it, the more likely it is to get infected. Come on. Up.”

Chloe groaned. “Who died and made you a doctor?”

But she pushed herself upright anyway.

“Unwrap that for me,” Nadine said, indicating the bandage, and Chloe began unraveling it.

Nadine opened up her med kit, revealing a whole host of supplies and instruments - tweezers, a small pair of scissors, pliers, several different sizes of curved needles, a roll of thread, gauze, bandages, rubbing alcohol.

“Well, that’s official,” Chloe remarked.

“Always have one with me,” Nadine said, not looking up. “My line of work, never know when you’ll need patching up.”

She slid a needle out of its housing, threading it in a few deft movements and tying a quick knot in the end. The movements felt familiar - she’d sewn up more wounds than she could count, many of them her own. This was as natural to her as firing a gun. She knew how to take people apart, but something inside her was glad to know that sometimes she could put them back together, too.

“God,” Chloe chuckled. “You’re almost too comfortable doing that.”

Nadine smiled a little. “Ja, probably so.” She grabbed the water bottle, twisting off the cap. “Alright, let me see.”

Chloe shifted obediently, turning so the wound on her arm was in full view. Nadine winced a little. The gash was long, at least a few inches stretching across Chloe’s tricep, and dark with dried blood. Nadine poured some water onto a cotton swab, swiping as gently as she could across the wound. Chloe didn’t make a sound. As the blood began disappearing, Nadine could see the full damage. The cut was easily a few millimeters deep and a deep bruise was beginning to mottle the skin around it.

Nadine picked up the bottle of rubbing alcohol. She saw Chloe notice and quickly look away.

“This’ll sting,” Nadine said by way of preamble, then soaked another swab in alcohol and ran it across the cut.

Chloe flinched, a quick hiss of pain escaping her lips. Nadine worked as quickly as she could, a silent apology in the speed of her fingers. Finally, she sat back. She poured a small amount of rubbing alcohol over the prepared needle.

“Now’s the fun part,” she said. Her eyes flicked up to Chloe’s face. “You want something to bite on?”

“Nah,” Chloe said, but she wouldn’t look at Nadine. “I’ve had worse. Knock yourself out.”

Nadine nodded and shifted a bit closer to Chloe, settling onto her haunches. She took Chloe’s arm in her left hand to steady it, then slid the needle through the end of the cut.

Chloe made a small, pained sound and dropped her head, closing her eyes. Nadine saw the tension in her neck and jaw, and an inexplicable feeling of guilt rose in her chest. It irritated her. She’d sewn up dozens of her men and never felt a thing for the discomfort it caused them. They’d clearly undergone significantly more pain than a simple patch job if they’d needed stitches at all, so it had never bothered her. And, of course, the same was true of Chloe, but for some reason Nadine felt like she had just kicked a puppy.

She dropped her eyes, concentrating on her work, trying to ignore the way Chloe flinched each time the needle slid into her flesh.

“Alright?” she asked quietly without meaning to.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, though her voice sounded tight. “Never have liked needles, that’s all.”

Nadine couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “You’ve been shot at, blown up, and fallen off of God knows how many precipices, but it’s needles that scare you?”

Chloe glanced at her sideways and Nadine was relieved to see a small smile on her lips. “Don’t ask me, alright? It’s always been like this.”

Nadine smiled and shrugged as if to say,  _no judgement here._

As she worked, she couldn’t help but let her eyes drift. Chloe was filthy, covered in dirt and mud. Scratches and bruises adorned her skin. Her hands, clasped over her knees, looked just as worn and torn as anyone would expect from someone who had spent the last two days clambering through miles of Indian jungle. There was dried blood in the creases of her knuckles, dirt beneath her fingernails, a mottled green bruise beginning to appear on her wrist. Her hair was stuck to the skin of her neck and face, damp with sweat in the evening humidity. She looked tired but patient, her gray eyes downcast as she waited for Nadine to finish stitching her up.

Nadine felt the urge to say something. Something ridiculous, like _I’m so glad you’re alive,_ or, _I could kill Asav twice for laying a hand on you_.

“I think this is going to scar,” she said instead.

Chloe sighed. “Ah, well. I could use a few. I don’t think I look nearly as badass as a real treasure hunter should.”

“Too right,” Nadine nodded. “Badass is the last word I’d use for you.”

“Cheeky,” Chloe snorted and Nadine flashed a grin at her.

She slid the final stitch tight, tied off the thread and clipped it short.

“There, good as new.”

Chloe craned her neck to inspect Nadine’s handiwork. “Thank you,” she said, and her voice was unusually sincere.

“Don’t mention it,” Nadine shrugged, beginning to put her med kit away.

“Hold on a tick,” Chloe said. “Let me get a look at you.”

Then her fingers were on Nadine’s face, touching her jaw gently to lift her face toward the light. Nadine’s heart lurched in her chest. Chloe’s touch was soft, achingly careful, her grey eyes quiet and attentive as she scanned Nadine’s face. Her gaze lingered on the abrasions on her forehead and cheek, a short breath puffing from between her lips as her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

“You might need some stitches of your own, love.”

The velvet tone of her voice, the gentleness of her fingers, the warm worry in her eyes - they were too much all at once and something broke inside Nadine. A hundred memories flooded to the surface - Chloe scaling cliffs easily, Chloe spouting the lore of gods and monsters, Chloe listening to Nadine’s random bits of knowledge with a small smile on her lips and interest in her eyes, Chloe gasping for breath in Asav’s grasp, Chloe’s voice splitting down the middle in the room where her father had once stood. Chloe laughing, bringing down enemies in a blaze of bullets, snapping pictures of Nadine for no reason other than she wanted to, collapsing where Nadine had struck her. Chloe’s broken voice betraying her panic when Asav’s men kicked Nadine so hard she’d felt the world spin, her capable hands touching Nadine’s wrists as she freed her from a drowning death, her brave, gentle eyes when she decided to sacrifice herself to save a city. Chloe. Touching her now with softness, with genuine care, her suddenly familiar eyes warm and gentle and good.

It all rushed in and that fear and tenderness reached up again to grip Nadine by the throat, catching her breath, bringing tears flood her vision. She looked away, breaking free of Chloe’s eyes, pulling back from her touch, furious and embarrassed and afraid.

“I’m alright, I’ll take care of it.”

She stood quickly, zipping up the medkit and avoiding Chloe’s confused stare.

“Wait, hang on,” Chloe said, standing too. She laughed halfheartedly. “I’m know I’m not nearly as good with a needle and thread as you are, but I can still help--”

“I said I’ll take care of it,” Nadine snapped, her own vitriol burning her tongue.

Nadine could feel Chloe’s eyes on her back and she felt sick, disgusted with herself for her cowardice.

“Alright,” Chloe said slowly. “Have I missed something?”

Nadine couldn’t answer. Her jaw felt tight. She clamped her eyes shut, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead to stave off a looming headache.

“Okay, I see. You stick me full of holes, but I don’t get to return the favor?” Chloe was trying to make a joke, but the confusion and hurt in her voice made it fall flat.

“Leave it, Frazer,” Nadine said, her voice barely controlled.

“Nadine…”

Chloe’s hand touched her shoulder softly. The weight and the warmth of it made Nadine feel weak. She wanted to drop to her knees, let all her words fall out, tell Chloe how afraid she had been of losing her, how afraid she still was, how she didn’t know if the fear was worse from Chloe’s near death experiences or from the fact that Nadine even cared this much. But she didn’t. Instead, she took a deep breath, and looked over her shoulder to give Chloe an apologetic glance.

“I’m tired, that’s all,” she said. “A butterfly bandage will do for now.”

Then she pulled her shoulder out from under Chloe’s hand before her touch could change her mind. She taped on a bandage as promised in silence and prayed that Chloe would leave well enough alone.

Chloe did, but what Nadine didn’t know was that Chloe understood. Or she hoped she did. Because she had seen the fear in Nadine’s eyes, the overwhelming agony of _I thought I lost you_ and _what have you done to me?_ And she had recognized it, because it had been heavy in her mind and chest since the moment they left the wreckage of the train behind and stepped back into the safety of the city. Because as she watched Nadine move silently from her bag to her mat and lay down for the night, all she could think was _I’m so glad you’re alive_ and _Asav deserved a far worse death for what he did to you_.

Because as she lay down to finally sleep, she faced Nadine’s back and watched the steady rise and fall of her ribs and she fell asleep to the thought, _Me, too, Nadine. I’m afraid of it too._

 


End file.
